How Am I Supposed To Help You
by CeceVolume
Summary: The only person that can stop Bellamy from doing whatever the hell he wants is Clarke.


HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU

She would have laughed at him if it wouldn't have made him immediately leave the medical tent.

Seriously, it shouldn't have been as funny as it was. Clarke _knew_ that. If they had been in any other time or place, it wouldn't have been. But they were living in a _post-apocalyptic world_ full of hostile humans, mutated animals, and a bunch of other unknowns that could kill or maim them.

Yet he had _tripped over a root_ and gotten a concussion.

So, no, she couldn't laugh at him. Even if she really, _really_ wanted to. Bellamy wasn't a person that would take even the quietest of chuckles well.

Instead, she was just going to patch him up and make sure he didn't leave. No matter how hard it was not to laugh at him.

"Seriously, princess, this isn't that big of a deal. I didn't even hit my head that hard," he suddenly said, sitting up on his cot. He flung his legs over the side, like he was going to try to get up. Had he read her mind? "I'm just gonna go back to my tent. Save this cot for someone who needs it."

She glanced over at him, hoping that she was hiding her mirth, though she was pretty sure that he already knew she was having some fun at his expense. "Bellamy, just lie back down. I just need you to follow the rules until morning, then you can do whatever it is that you do without me hovering over you."

There was no way Clarke would admit that she had volunteered—okay, _demanded_—she be the one to stay up with him; he would only be insisting more that he was fine. It was just…when they'd brought him in and her mother had diagnosed him, she hadn't been able to stop herself. He was her _partner_. She couldn't just let him be left to anyone else's care. She wouldn't be able to sleep, anyways, thinking that he might not wake up as Bellamy.

She _needed_ the real Bellamy.

With a groan, he rolled his eyes, making to get up again. "I'd feel better if someone with _actual_ injuries were put in this spot. We all know I don't need it. A concussion isn't the worst thing that's happened to us down here."

It was true; some of them had lost limbs, gone deaf or blind, even _died_. She just was…less than willing to let something like that happen to him. He was the heart of the 100, after all.

Standing up, she went to stand straight in front of him, crossing her arms over her chest. It was a stance she often took with their people, to make sure she wasn't disobeyed. "No. Lie back down and at least _act_ like you know what year it is." It was supposed to come off a bit lighter, but she flinched at the rudeness of it all. He didn't need to spoken to like a child, even when he was being a stubborn idiot; he was the one she saw as her rock. Why talk to him in such a way?

Because he needed it, she realized as he went to stand, going toe-to-toe with her. She tried to ignore the worry that filled her when he swayed slightly, like it was too much for him.

"You aren't my mother or my ruler, princess," he growled, glaring down at her like he was about to shake her shoulders. "If I don't want to stay here, I won't."

What happened next, she wouldn't be able to explain, not even to Raven or Octavia. It was just…a blur.

Somehow, Clarke knocked him back on the cot, catching him off-guard, she supposed. Before he had been able to get up, she'd plopped down on his legs, putting her full weight into her butt to keep him there. There was a groan—whether it was one of annoyance from him or disbelief from her, she couldn't be sure—and then her walkie was filled with static from Raven. Had she accidentally pressed the button?

"Clarke? Clarke, can you talk?"

Even as Raven spoke over the battle of wills, Bellamy started moving his legs as much as he could with Clarke on top of them, making her bounce slightly as she tried to maintain her perch. Stupid stubborn idiots, overrunning her camp.

Snatching the device from her belt, the blonde snapped, "I'm in the middle of something; is this important?" Putting her free hand back on his knee, she tried to hold at least one leg steady, but his legs were a lot stronger than her arms; he kept kicking.

So she scooted farther up his body, putting her full weight on his upper thighs. His legs didn't move quite so much, but it was still a little annoying that he wouldn't just _lay the fuck down._

"Sorry, but we've got a minor chance of infection over here. Dana's showed some allergic reactions to Monty's moonshine, so we were wondering what plant we can use to disinfect the area," Raven responded, pausing for a moment before she continued. "And we might need an antihistamine too; I think there are some hives forming."

Sighing, Clarke went over their stock of plants, trying to ignore when Bellamy put his hands on her hips like he was going to throw her off. Leaning back until her lower back was pressed against his groin, she answered her friend, "The purple seaweed is enough for disinfection until we find something else; it'll kill the worst of the bacteria. Give her one—_one_—leema berry for the hives. Maybe just half, since they're kind of potent. She can have another half if it doesn't have any effect."

Before she clicked off, Bellamy muttered, "Jesus fucking Christ, Clarke, can you move a little bit? This isn't easy when you're like a rock on my lap!"

She couldn't help herself as he continued to try to move her; she flopped back fully on his chest, knocking the breath out of him from the shock of it. _Maybe if you weren't so stupid,_ she thought, keeping the chuckle at his attempts to throw her away to herself.

The static on the other line grew, like Raven was trying to think through her next words before she said them. Clarke briefly wondered why before the mechanic started talking again.

"Can you two seriously not keep your hands to yourself? Hell, he has a _concussion,_ Clarke; give him a break!"

Both she and the boy beneath her froze at that, their wriggling momentarily ceased as if someone were watching them. A blush spread like wildfire across Clarke's face at the realization of what Bellamy had pretty much announced to anyone that might be listening to a walkie, but she didn't get off of him.

He _was_ trying to escape.

"No!" she cried into the walkie, quickly explaining what was going on to her friend. She didn't want to…she couldn't ever…she wasn't having sex with Bellamy Blake! And why wasn't he saying anything to change Raven's mind? All the girl on the other end needed to hear was the truth from him and she would lay off. There wouldn't be this weird silence, like Raven believed not one word out of Clarke's mouth. Was Clarke supposed to jump in with something to say?

God, where had the leader's confidence gone?

After what felt like an eternity of quiet from the other end, Raven finally spoke, sounding like she was just so _done_ with anything Clarke had to say. "Okay, whatever, Clarke. But, seriously, can you guys just keep it to yourselves for once? We get it; you two are bumping uglies. Cool. Try not to throw it in our faces. No one wants to know the dirty details."

But they hadn't ever…they weren't….

Why did everyone think they were having sex?!


End file.
